THE FABLE: A MAGICAL CHILD IS BORN
by EdwinaLockhart
Summary: Mainly INSPIRED by Fable 2  , i played the game, its in a similar setting.  i dont know whether i will introduce the characters from the game, or just leave it as an inspiration!
1. Chapter 1

I have decided to write a series based on the adventures of a magical child, around a similar setting as fable II, as that is my inspiration

THE FABLE: A MAGICAL CHILD IS BORN

The Birth

Once Upon a Time, a beautiful mother-to-be, with light mousy brown hair and glossy green eyes awaited the birth of her child. Her husband, the prince, awaited the birth of a son, and heir to his thrown, he was not a loving man. He followed in his father's footsteps and became a cruel leader of his kingdom, and only cared about having a child to carry on a long lost tradition that turned many men to bitter lemons. As he paced in his study, a circular room, lined with a circular bookshelf that seemed to reach no end, as it extended up into the skies, a long ladder, clinging longingly to this bookshelf, the Prince, stared so frightfully at the papers on his round table, and hesitantly sat in his round chair.

He never wished to love the Princess; she was a pawn in his master game of chess to give birth to his child and to keep up happy appearances with the local townspeople, of which he had no ideal of associating himself with. However, to his disappointment, she ran awry, she wore what she wanted to wear, she did what she wanted to do, and she shopped and giggled openly with the peasants, unlike the cruel ruler, she remained passionate and kind-hearted. He fell in love with this nature, as the little bookworm boy inside of him, fell in love with her compassion. His father taught him that love is not real, and that the townspeople are fools for believing so.

The papers he so longingly wanted to destroy were to have his wife executed, upon her giving birth to a female, she too would be executed with her mother, and another princess would take her place. To the poor princess' ill fate, the child was a girl, just as the fates had planned.

She was sentenced to death, along with her daughter, as the villagers gathered, a hooded woman swooped into the front circle, upon that moment, a guillotine was released from its hold and the princess lost her life, just as the fates planned.

Upon seeing this, the hooded female, in scarlet robes fought to the back of the circle, and witnessed the arrival of a child, a child marked for death, upon colliding with the royal guards, who harshly held the weak and hungry infant, the scarlet hooded female ceased the child from their scornful clutches and ran into the shadows, upon their reaction, the guards did not find the woman in the shadows, nor in the midday sunlight of the town market beyond.

The hooded figure hushed the screaming child as she gazed upon the meandering forest in front of her, she headed for the small town, a town not ruled by royalty, nor by combat, nor by religion, but by unadulterated magic. It was a place for young people to practise their craft, to harness their deepest powers.

It was a relatively large town, the main homes of the townspeople lived in stone shacks and half constructed tents, in and open oval, with a walk way in the middle. There in the middle of the luscious grassy field, sat an ancient fountain. It was known as the Spring of Isaac, and its waters promised good health to all that were worthy to drink from it. It is said when the spring stops, the world will change, and a war shall begin, an old Wiccan wives tale, to which nobody held true to. Beyond this, a small layer of trees and a drawbridge over the running rocky stream of treacherous waters. The dusty road continues into an area of small shacks, this is the towns market; all produce comes from out of the shack town, and is refreshed in the Spring of Isaac. Heading right, the hooded figure walks towards a large wooden shack, 5 floors tall and perfectly constructed. Enchanted doors sang of their magic, as the hooded figure muttered the old gypsy password, and the doors sprang to life, allowing the hooded figure into a brightly lit room, with an old crooked man, in an old crooked chair.


	2. Chapter 2

The Ancient

The hooded figure waits patiently at the door, as the old man erects his legs and back, leaning heavily on a walking stick, upon stretching he says,

"Were you successful?" his tired eyes, facing the hooded figure.

"Of course father, the child is now in our possession, and the prince is so dim-witted that he will be glad to be rid of the child, one way or another",

"Ahh, yes, but he won't be when he realises who took it" exhausted the old man, as he gazed upon his daughter, "the fates have never been kind to him, and they have not been kind to your face, [insert name here], remove your hood and let me look at you," finished the old man.

After looking patiently at the glowing markings of aqua blue gypsy language encrypted on his daughters face, he gazed into her blind eye. It was blind to this world, but though her looks were tainted by the fates, those same fates gave her an insight into the future of all, the past of all, and the present of all, her powers remained limited however, she could not see the end, and she did not wish to see it either.

"Whether a blessing or a curse father, I can see all, I see life, I see death, I see light, I see dark, I see love, and I see loss. We have an upper hand over Them." Referring to the royals, she looked lovingly back at her gravely ill father.

"You may see these things when you look into the light, but you can never feel them, you can never experience them yourself, for you are simply a messenger, a messenger to those who will listen, and a messenger to all those blessed with the gifts of magic, as your father, I see this as a curse" said the old man, pitifully.

"I do not question your wise words, but our concern is the child, and if the fate I saw rings true, we must centre our lives on maintaining her magic."

It was then that the old man caught sight of the face of the wonder child, her coveted eyes looked to him, and the old man fell limp, his hand releasing the walking stick, as it banged on the ground, he began to fall,

"NO! NOT NOW! Not ever, not yet, no, don't go father! We were triumphant." Cried the hooded female.

"We are not yet triumphant, for this is only the beginning."

And then, the old man slowly died as his daughter wept on his death bed, she had foreseen his death, and new it was soon, she thought she was fully prepared, but nothing could prepare her for the pain of loss.

After dressing the child in blankets, she attached it to her robes as she pulled her father to the old seat, lying him down. She ran to the Isaac Training School, a place built for the studies of magic, and rang the bell for a ritual to be held for her dear father, upon ringing it, the towns people bent to one knee, bowed their heads, and showed their respect, a moment of silence lingered over the town, and all that could be heard was bird song and the screaming of a tearful infant. Just as the fates had planned.


End file.
